


Make a Memory

by verysorrytobother



Series: Talk to Me AU [7]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Alcohol, Characters Play Dungeons & Dragons, Drunken Shenanigans, Drunkenness, Dungeons Dungeons and More Dungeons, Ficlet, Fluff, Mentions of Sex, a fluffy ficlet before the angst, and also get drunk, before Fidds ditches them, but it's not real or explicit, just the boys being dummies, sorry I know it's super short but I HAD to make them play DDMD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-05
Updated: 2021-01-05
Packaged: 2021-03-15 11:28:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28562790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/verysorrytobother/pseuds/verysorrytobother
Summary: Fiddleford is leaving for California in the morning, so it had better be a night to remember.
Relationships: Fiddleford H. McGucket & Ford Pines, Fiddleford H. McGucket & Ford Pines & Stan Pines, Fiddleford H. McGucket & Stan Pines, Ford Pines & Stan Pines
Series: Talk to Me AU [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2056503
Comments: 33
Kudos: 68





	Make a Memory

“You traipse through the enchanted forest, birds chirping pleasantly in the treetops. The noonday sun slants through the foliage, casting the path in a warm golden glow. As you near the glade, fairy swarms thicken and fill the air with sparkling—” 

“Get on with it!” 

Ford bristled. “I’m setting the scene!” he said defensively. “Atmosphere is vital to the storytelling experience. Fidds, help me out.” 

“I’ve gotta agree with Stan on this one,” Fiddleford said with an apologetic chuckle. “You  _ were _ kinda draggin’ it out.” 

Ford sulked. “Fine,” he grumbled. “You walk through a forest. It’s extremely magical and beautiful, but you don’t appreciate it because you’re impatient.” 

Stan grinned and cheered. “Yeah! Im-pa-tience! Im-pa-tience!” He high-fived Fiddleford. Ford rolled his eyes. 

“Yes, yes. You continue along the path when...SUDDENLY!” Ford slammed his hands down on the table, causing Stan and Fiddleford to flinch. “An ogre leaps from the trees, blocking your path!” 

“Aw, another one?” Fiddleford sighed, rifling through the stacks of graph paper. “I’m still not fully healed from the  _ last  _ fight!” 

“Don’t worry, Fiddlenerd, I’ve got this,” Stan said, grabbing the 38-sided die. “Barbaros Hammerfist is ready to kick some ass!” 

“The ogre speaks, in a booming voice...” Ford paused here to get into character, clearing his throat. “ _ Halt! Yon interlopers are trespassing on the ancient forest of Probabilitor the wizard!” _

“Ugh,  _ this  _ guy again.” 

“Yer impressions are gettin’ real good, Stanford!” 

_ “If ye wish to pass, first, ye must complete seven unworldly quests, each more difficult than the _ —”

“Yeah, no,” Stan interrupted. “I’m bashin’ him over the head.”

Before Ford could protest, he rolled the dice. It landed on thirty and Stan whooped, punching the air. 

Ford huffed. “I don’t know why you even bothered to multi-class, if brute force is your solution to everything.” 

“Hey, bein’ a fighter’s great and all, but these thieving hands have saved our butts plenty of times. Not to mention, rogues get increased charisma.” 

Fiddleford snorted. “Five hours ago ya said, and I quote, ‘Only a game designed by nerds would have ‘charisma’ as a fantasy power.’” 

Stan blushed. “Yeah, well...it’s your last night. Might as well humor you geeks,” he said, waving a hand dismissively. 

Ford was still muttering under his breath as he scribbled over his notes and crumpled up paper. “All the work I put into those quests...campaign is  _ completely _ derailed…” 

“A’right, fellas, the night’s still young,” Fiddleford said, getting up from the table and rifling through the kitchen cabinets. “Let’s make this game more interestin’...darnit, where’d I put that...ah! Here we go!” He pulled out two bottles of moonshine. “Been savin’ these fer a special occasion!” 

Ford wrinkled his nose. “How long has that been there?” 

“Just since my folks visited last. They brought it up with ‘em. It’s homemade!” 

Stan and Ford looked at each other, then shrugged. 

“I’m down,” Stan said. “Don’t know about lightweight over here, though.” 

Ford sputtered indignantly. “ _ Lightweight?!  _ You’ve never even  _ seen  _ me drunk!” 

“Yeah, just ‘cause he puked in his own shoes last time don’t mean…” Fiddleford trailed off as Ford glared at him, busying himself with filling three glasses.

“I can hold my liquor just fine,” Ford snapped over Stan’s laughter. “But a side effect of consuming alcohol is a loss of decision-making, and my inebriated self didn’t know when to stop drinking.  _ Anyone  _ would have thrown up.” 

“Whatever you say, Sixer,” Stan said, wiping his eyes. 

Fiddleford set a drink down in front of each of them, then took a seat. He raised his own glass in the air and said, “Ta friendship!” 

“That’s way too sappy,” Stan sighed. “How ‘bout somethin’ cool, like adventure?” 

“You can toast to whatever ya like, Stan Pines, but let  _ me _ toast...ta friendship!” He raised his glass again. 

“Fine. To adventure!” Stan said, raising his as well. 

“To the endless horizon of scientific discovery!” Ford joined in. 

Simultaneously, they all knocked their drinks back. 

Stan and Ford immediately coughed and spluttered.

“What  _ is  _ that, gasoline?!” Stan shouted, still choking. 

“It’s like whiskey and nightmares had a baby,” Ford gasped. 

Fiddleford shrugged and took another swig. “Just takes some gettin’ used to, that’s all.” 

With identical grimaces, the twins drank some more. Ford coughed again and shuddered before reorganizing the papers in front of him. 

“Now let’s see, where were we...ah, yes. Barbaros Hammerfist bravely strikes the ogre with a mighty swing of his sword. It falls to the forest floor with a crash, its foot twitching…” 

* * *

“I roll to  **[CENSORED]** Cthulhu,” Stan giggled. Fiddleford, who was refilling Ford’s glass for the sixth time, burst out laughing and nearly dropped the bottle.

Stan rolled the die. It tumbled off the board and landed somewhere beneath the table .

Ford crawled under on his belly and inspected the die for a long moment, squinting in concentration. “The most that roll will get you is a sultry glance,” he finally said, bumping his head on the way back up. 

“Go on, Stan, show us yer sultry glance!” Fiddleford said. 

Stan turned away from them, then whipped back around with a hilarious attempt at a smolder on his face. Ford and Fidds howled with laughter. Ford pounded his fist on the table, eyes watering. 

“If Stan couldn’t do it, looks like I’ve gotta give it a go,” Fiddleford said, grabbing the die from Ford. “C’mon, bardly powers, don’t fail me now!” 

“Seduce ‘im with that sweet banjo music!” 

“Stanley, his character plays a  _ lute,  _ not a banjo. There’s a— _ hic! _ —there’s a difference.” 

Fiddleford rolled the die. 

A natural thirty-eight.

All three men immediately began shouting and jumping around.

“You  **[CENSORED]** Cthulhu!” Ford screamed. 

“I  **[CENSORED]** Cthulhu!” Fiddleford yelled victoriously. 

Stan just continued to scream unintelligibly. 

* * *

The game sat on the kitchen table, long forgotten. Two empty bottles of homemade moonshine were left discarded on the floor. 

“Ya know,” Fiddleford said, staring up at the living room ceiling from his position on the floor, “I’m gonna m-miss you guys. Mebbe I should...should just make a shrink ray. And pack ya in my luggage.” 

Ford hung upside down off of the couch. “That sounds...mathematically feasible…”

“I don’ like heights,” Stan muttered. “Not goin’ on no airplane.” 

They sat in silence for a bit. 

Stan suddenly burst into tears. 

“I-I love you guys,” he sobbed. “Ya took me in, even...even though I’m a no-good con man. I just—I don’t know what I’d do without you.” He wiped his snot off on Ford’s tie, but Ford didn’t seem to notice or care. “I’d prob’ly be dead in a ditch somewhere. And—and life sucks, ya know? But we...we gotta read it anyway. ‘Cause books are just people and without ‘em...there’s just t-tax evasion.” 

Ford reached up to pat Stan’s face and missed. “You’re so smart, Stan. Never stop being smart. Anyone who says you’re dumb...they... _ they’re  _ dumb.” His bottom lip began to tremble. “ _ I’m  _ dumb. I’m so  _ dumb,  _ Fidds! I got—I got my  _ brother  _ here, and he wasn’t  _ here  _ before!” Ford fell off of the couch and buried his face in Stan’s shoulder. Stan patted him on the back. “I’m so  _ dumb! _ ” 

Fiddleford rolled over to face them. “You two…” he said, pointing at both of them, “...you two are a couple o’ jerks, but goshdarnit, yer  _ my  _ jerks, ya hear?” He tried to stand and promptly fell back over. “And now I’m wishin’ I was sober so’s I could impart some wonderlyful life advice to ya’ll!” 

“Impart away,” Ford said. Stan shoved him for no reason and chuckled .

“Artificial intelligence is overrated and sassy,” he said, counting off on his fingers. “Fire plus a gas leak is bad news. And…” He trailed off, thinking. “And...every tub’s gotta stand on its own bottom!” 

Ford clapped. Stan booed and threw a pillow at him.

* * *

Waking up early the next morning to drive Fiddleford to the airport, they all had one heck of a hangover.


End file.
